Beta: PJ in NH

Spoilers: Various throughout the series

Disclaimer: Everything belongs to someone else, etc., etc., etc. I'm not making any money, I'm just having fun with the characters.

Author's Notes: I have wanted to do this story for several years, but every time I'd start thinking about it, someone else would post a story about Malcolm losing his sight, or Trip being blind, or Malcolm losing his hearing, and so on. I didn't want anyone to think I was ripping off a story they'd done. But, dang it! I've waited three years! I've decided to heck with it. I'm doing it now!

Another Author's Note: Some of you were probably expecting another humorous story from me. I do write a lot of humor, but sometimes I have to take a break and get the angst out of my system and stretch my creative wings before any new humorous storyline ideas crop up. There is humor in this story, but it's not the main theme.

CHAPTER 1

Malcolm tapped his foot impatiently. The long day was becoming even longer, and his frustration was growing with each delay, most of which had been caused by Trip.

The test had been called off yet again, this time because of a variance of less than two one-hundredths on one of the readings. Malcolm knew the modifications to the phase cannons would work, and although he could understand Trip's desire for caution, he thought the man was carrying it a bit far. Two one-hundredths was well within acceptable parameters.

Malcolm had been developing these upgrades for the past year. Once implemented, they would increase the output of the phase cannons by more than twelve percent. One thing Malcolm had learned being out in space for five years: The bigger and stronger your weapons, the better the chance of coming out the winner in a hostile encounter. So many times they'd been involved in battles where Enterprise's weapons had had little or no effect. Improving the cannons might prevent more of that in the future.

But the delays, as Trip found one reason after another to stop the test, were irksome. Malcolm knew most of the crew thought he was overly cautious, but that was nothing compared to what Trip could be like when his precious engine was involved. Extra power was needed for the cannon upgrade, which meant Trip was overseeing that end of the operation from Engineering. Meanwhile, here he was, waiting in the compartment which housed the port phase cannon. It was hot and cramped, and his hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat.

He opened his communicator to find out what the hold-up was this time. "Reed to Engineering."

There were a few moments of silence, then Trip's voice came back to him. "Keep your shirt on, Malcolm. I'm almost done. I want to make sure the override will work if we need to shut this down."

"It's not going to need to be shut down," Malcolm said testily.

"That's your opinion," Trip responded calmly. "Better to be safe than sorry. And don't forget to use the goggles."

Malcolm snapped the communicator shut. He grabbed the goggles from where he'd hung them on a convenient conduit. Not that he expected there would be any back flare from routing so much power to the cannons, but he had no grounds to complain about Trip's overcautiousness if he himself ignored basic safety precautions. He slipped on the goggles and resumed waiting.

His communicator beeped. Flipping it open, he said, "Go ahead."

"We're ready. Let's try it again."

Malcolm set the open communicator on a nearby flat surface and began entering commands for the test on the panel in front of him. If the third time was supposedly the charm, he wondered what was the seventeenth time called.

A flashing light on the panel made him curse under his breath.

"Abort," he said loudly enough to be picked up by the open communicator. He quickly input the commands to halt the test on his end.

"What is it this time?" Trip asked.

"I'm getting a warning indicator. I need to reset the sequence. Should only take a moment."

His vision restricted by the goggles, Malcolm took them off to better see what he was doing at the panel. It irritated him that this time he was the one stopping the test, but it was probably because some change Trip had made down in Engineering had thrown the system out of balance. He entered the commands to reset the upgrade, and the indicator stopped flashing.

"Ready," he said.

"Here we go," said Trip over the open communicator link. "Commencing power feed now."

Malcolm, holding his breath, watched the panel displays. The troublesome indicator light remained dark. He was slowly letting out his breath when another readout showed a sudden power spike. The build-up of energy was much too fast. If it continued, it would soon be beyond the capability of the system to handle.

"Shut it down!" he yelled, frantically entering commands on his end.

Trip's reply was drowned out by the staticky hiss of energy as it was routed into the cannon. Malcolm's fingers flew over the control panel, trying to halt the flow of energy, but the surge continued to grow.

The first sense to alert Malcolm to his return to consciousness was hearing. Sickbay again, he deduced. The chirping and rustling noises were unmistakably those of Phlox's many creatures.

As he groggily clawed his way toward full awareness, other sensations made themselves known, and he was afraid to open his eyes for fear the sickbay lighting would only intensify his headache.

He ached all over. He hadn't felt this pulverized since he and Major Hayes had beat each other up. He hadn't been in another fight, had he? Or -- his breathing hitched and his heartbeat sped up -- had he been on a planetary mission that had gone awry?

His disjointed thoughts finally coalesced. He'd been in one of the phase cannon compartments working on testing the upgrades. He didn't remember much except that it had been taking much longer than he'd anticipated. One problem after another had kept cropping up.

Keeping his eyes closed, he turned his face to the side, but the movement was impeded by something on his head. That explained his headache. He must have hit his head. The bleeding must have been fierce if Phlox had needed to use so much bandaging.

Lifting a hand, he touched the wrappings. His fingers followed them around from above one ear, over his eyes, to the other ear. Had his eyes been damaged as well? He tried to open them, but the bandage was sufficiently tight to keep them closed.

A wave of panic flooded through him. He thrashed about, spurred by a vague notion of sitting up, taking off the bandages, and finding a mirror to see what had happened to him. He'd just gotten the blanket off and had slid his feet over the edge of the bed when a voice stopped him.

"I'd advise against that, Lieutenant."

Turning his head in the direction of Doctor Phlox's voice, Malcolm asked, "What's wrong with my eyes?"

"I'll tell you once you calm down and lie back."

Malcolm felt a hand on his arm, guiding him back down on the biobed. "What's wrong with my eyes?" he asked again.

"Let me ask you a few questions first," Phlox countered. "What is the last thing you remember?"

Malcolm took a deep breath and exhaled loudly. "I was in the port phase cannon compartment. We were getting ready to try the test on the upgrade again."

"And...?"

Malcolm started to shake his head, then stopped as the movement reminded him he was wearing a bandage around the top half of his head. "I'm not sure," he said. "We'd started the test, but had to stop so I could reset the upgrade. I did that, and then I remember telling Trip I was ready to start the test again."

"Anything else?"

Now Malcolm did shake his head, wincing at the pain the movement produced. He heard Phlox move away a step, then step back, and felt the tip of a hypospray touch his neck. As the injection hissed, his body began to relax and his headache lessened in intensity.

"That feels better," Malcolm said gratefully, raising a hand to touch the bandaging. "Now please, Doctor. Tell me what happened."

"According to Commander Tucker," Phlox said, "there was a power surge feeding into the system where you were. The surge resulted in an explosion--" Phlox's restraining hand kept Malcolm from bolting upright. "I'm sure Mr. Tucker will be able to tell you about it in more detail. But you were severely injured. You've suffered a concussion, which probably explains your difficulty recalling the events immediately prior to the explosion. You apparently were blown across the compartment, only to be stopped by a very hard bulkhead."

Phlox paused, and Malcolm braced himself, sensing there was worse to come.

"In addition," Phlox continued solemnly, "your eyes were burned. Please do not attempt to remove the bandaging. You could cause even more damage if you do."

"Am I...?" Malcolm stopped and swallowed. He couldn't bring himself to ask.

"Blind? I don't know," Phlox admitted honestly, but not unkindly. "Given time, your eyes no doubt will be as good as new, but there is always a chance that may not be the case."

"When will you know for certain?" Malcolm asked.

"According to the scans, your eyes are already healing," Phlox said. Malcolm could tell by the change in his voice that the doctor had lifted his head, no doubt to look at the med scanner readings on the panel behind him. "However, we won't know for certain until the bandages come off and you open your eyes. The bandages have to remain in place for at least a week."

Malcolm digested this information, unaware of Phlox watching him intently.

"If you don't mind me asking," Phlox asked softly, "was there a reason you weren't wearing safety goggles? They were found on the other side of the compartment from you after the explosion."

"I had them on," Malcolm said testily, then went still as a fragment of memory surfaced. "No, I didn't. I took them off to reset the upgrade sequence." His voice thickened with self-remorse as he continued. "I was so anxious to get on with the test. I must have forgotten to put them back on."

He turned his head in what he thought was the direction where Phlox was standing, and the doctor smiled sadly. Malcolm didn't know he was off by a good thirty degrees.

"Would it have made a difference if I had been wearing them?" Malcolm asked.

"Perhaps," Phlox said. "The force and brilliance of the explosion were enough that your eyes would have been damaged even if you had been wearing them, but not as severely. You also apparently had your eyes open at the exact moment the explosion was ignited. Eyelids are not very thick, but they do provide minimal protection in such situations. In any case, you shouldn't dwell on what happened. You should concentrate on getting better, hmmm?"

Malcolm didn't answer. He was too busy berating himself. He hadn't put the goggles on. How could he have been so stupid? If he wound up permanently blind, it would be his own bloody fault.